


Dawn In Naples

by 0bviousLeigh



Category: SNH48
Genre: Attempted Murder, Gen, Kiss of Death, Magic, Mental Instability, Murder, Political Intrigue, Political backstabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 02:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13226433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0bviousLeigh/pseuds/0bviousLeigh
Summary: Long Live the Queen. // Based on the SNH48 music video of the same name, but more fleshed out and with some imagination.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I have been wanting to write this since I saw the music video for the first time!!! Watch it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e8olns_QUmE), maybe before you read the story? Unless you don't want the story to be spoiled.
> 
> I also did a translation of the untranslated parts of the drama MV, which you can read [here](http://galaxy--supernova.tumblr.com/post/167848538542) and also see how I went about formulating this plot in the first place, at least the parts without, you know, "canon explanations".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't part of the original music video, hence why it's a prologue. It's all my imagination.

The Princess clutches the cold metal of the pendant, the last gift her father ever gave her. In a few short moments, she will go outside and the eyes of the Kingdom will watch as she throws the first handful of dirt on top of her father’s coffin.

She looks out of the carriage window, peeking out through a crack in the heavy curtain. It’s a beautiful summer day, and a horse-drawn carriage ride would have been perfect, had it not taken her to her father’s grave. The sky is blue and sunlight filters down through the leaves of centuries old trees, trees who have seen dozens of rulers buried in this graveyard. The Princess shivers and leans back, drawing her heavy cloak tighter around her shoulders. Through sun, rain, wind, or humidity, she is always cold.

“Your Highness,” her head guard calls from outside the carriage, “It is time.”

The Princess reaches over her head and pulls her veil over her face. She opens the carriage door, and her head guard extends a hand to help her down. As her feet touch the ground, she stumbles slightly as her ankle turns under her.

Another guard catches her elbow. “Princess,” the guard begins, but she interrupts.

“I’m fine,” she says, her tone slightly snappish. She stands, straightens her gown, cloak, and veil, and walks to the open grave. The veil blurs her vision, so she walks slowly. It’s bothersome, but if she went without the veil people would talk. At least with it on, she can be emotionless and cold in peace.

The priest stands at the head of the coffin. The nobles surround the grave and coffin, the Princess can feel their eyes on her every move. She stands next to the priest, and he begins the service. The Princess listens with half an ear, mostly she waits to see if the Nobles will dare whisper about her. But aside from the priest, all she hears is birdsong.

The priest’s even tone and the chirping birds soothe her, and she allows some of the tension to leave her shoulders and spine. What she wouldn’t give for a hot bath to soothe her stiff muscles and bones. She’s not even twenty, but the doctors tut over her creaking joints and cold skin. She tosses aside the potions and creams they make for her, knowing that she doesn’t need elixirs, she needs peace of mind—the kind of peace that only comes through power.

The priest closes his bible and the Princess nearly jumps, but manages to contain herself. Men in white lift the King’s coffin with ropes and pulleys, and lower it into the ground. There’s hardly a sound as it settles into the earth.

The priest nods at the Princess, and she removes her gloves and hands them to her head guard. She walks to the mountain of earth next to her father’s grave and scoops a handful of it with her bare hands. She lifts the dirt to her mouth and kisses it through her veil before letting it fall over the coffin. She brushes off her hands and steps back.

The gesture is repeated by all the present Nobility. Finally the Priest throws in a handful of dirt, makes the sign of the cross, and the mourners murmur “Amen.”

The Princess is escorted back to the carriage by her guards, and once she’s settled, they head back to the palace. The Princess lifts her veil and blows on her fingers to warm them.

Her head spins and she closes her eyes, feeling the beginnings of a headache. She gets headaches so frequently these days, it annoys her to no end. In fact, it bothers her more than the death of her father does.

She wonders if she’s odd, for not crying.


	2. Dawn in Naples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is (almost) entirely based on the music video.

They are supposed to be discussing the recent murders of the Lords, but thus far, no one has said a word. The Grand Duke, of the First Island, sits on a long sofa, surrounded by Nobles who ate out of the palm of her hand. Princess Jingyi swallows bile and fights not to let her lips twist. She didn’t know what sickened her more, her headache or the smirks of the people who sat across from her.

The empty throne above them casts a looming shadow. Jingyi doesn’t let any of her anxieties show through the mask she’s spent nineteen years perfecting, but inside, she seethes and longs to unleash her pent up frustration. She should be sitting on that throne already.

Grand Duke Yitong stares at her coldly over her cup of wine. “Imperial Highness, you don’t look so well,” the Duke drawls, “Why don’t you get some rest? You can leave the country to us.”

Jingyi keeps her eyes down. “I’m fine, Highness,” she says, her voice thin and high. “These are matters of state.”

Yitong looks towards the empty throne. “The people are waiting for the new leader,” she says sharply. “Shouldn’t we choose a replacement now?”

The dismissal in her tone, suggesting a _replacement_ as though the heir to the throne weren’t sitting right in front of her, is what makes the Princess’ guards start forward, hands on their swords. Three of them, Jingyi can tell by simply listening to the rustle of fabric and the sliding of metal against metal. Then they freeze—the Head Guard, Zhang Yuge, has thrown out her arm to stop them.

The hilts of the swords click against the sheaths. The lower guards step back into place.

Dame Yuge speaks with a strong, confident tone. “The Princess carries the blood of the King, she’ll be the successor.”

Lady Huang TingTing unfolds her fan and arranges it under her chin. She flicks her eyes over the Princess with disdain. “Without our support, she can’t become the Queen.” It’s the kind of thing she wouldn’t have dared to say in Princess Jingyi’s presence had the King still been alive.

Marquis Lu Ting, a woman with a smirk like a tiger, adds, “And there’s still no seal.”

With an equally disrespectful air, Lady Mo Han adds, “How can a ruler without a seal be called a Ruler?”

The Nobility smirk, some with heads lowered, some behind their fans, some openly. Lady Duan Yixuan gives a nervous smile, all teeth. She’s uncomfortable with the turn the conversation has taken.

Jingyi curls her fingers around the pendant her father gave her. The metal almost feels warm, compared to the icy cold of her skin. The seal, the seal, the seal. The seal of Heredity, the seal the Nobles swore on that they would be loyal to the King’s bloodline. Jingyi has grown up in this palace, sat on her father’s knee and watched him rule. She watched her mother die in this palace. She hosted balls with royalty from far away nations, she danced and laughed and learned in this palace, and that damned seal was going to see her evicted from this palace if it wasn’t found and in her possession.

Duke Yitong swirls her wine around her glass. “Queens aren’t chosen only through bloodlines,” she says, threatening. She takes a sip of her wine, puts it aside, then stands and walks away. Bad enough that she didn’t wait to be dismissed from the Princess’ presence, but she didn’t bow either.

Jingyi’s stomach is in knots. Her power was limited to begin with, but with each day it slips further and further from her grasp. She clutches her pendant. _‘Father, what do I do?’_ she thinks desperately.

Her only answer is the giggles of the ladies across from her.

 

 

With the attempt at taking care of matters of state failed, the Princess has her guards accompany her for a walk in the gardens. She shrugs off their offers for a cloak. In the weeks since her father’s passing, she’s noticed that while she remains cold, it bothers her less and less.

The gardens are quiet and private. The sun is high, the gardeners have finished their work, and the sweet smell of the flowers eases Jingyi’s headache slightly.

She stops in a quiet spot and turns slightly towards Dame Yuge. “Have you found the seal?” She asks in a hushed tone.

Yuge steps forward, her head bowed. “I’m very sorry, we’ve tried our best.”

They have searched the King’s bedchambers, the site of his death, the grounds themselves, but the seal has remained lost.

Jingyi lowers her eyes as her headache returns full force and something seems to pulsate under her skin. She holds a fist to her heart and stumbles to the side. Her vision doubles, blurs, and refocuses. She can feel the hands of her guards upon her, and her breath is ragged even though she’s barely moved.

Dame Dai Meng whispers, “Rest assured Princess, we’ll make every effort to find the seal.”

Jingyi nods. “I believe in you,” she says breathlessly.

Dame Wu ZheHan, the tallest and strongest of the guards, keeps her arm around Jingyi’s waist and escorts her back to the palace. The other guards follow behind, on alert for anyone who may be watching. They take the Princess back to her rooms and draw her a bath.

Jingyi dismisses her guards from the washroom as she soaks in the hot, scented water. But alone, it’s harder to ignore the anger and desperation that claws at her chest, up into her throat, until she’s gritting her teeth against it. She’s not to let it consume her, she’s not, she promised that she wouldn’t give in to those thoughts again.

She never removes her pendant, not even to bathe, and as fog swirls within her head, she clutches it tight enough to leave marks in her palm.

‘This will pass,’ she thinks desperately as her head aches like it’s going to cleave open, ‘It always passes, just like it did on the night father died…’

But then, maybe that wasn’t such a good thing, because when it did pass on that night, things weren’t ever the same again…

The Princess takes a deep breath and opens her eyes. She releases the pendant and leans back against the porcelain tiles of the bathtub, looking over the indentations in her palm, and then her nails thoughtfully. She should cut them, they could become bothersome if they grow too long. Her Other Self digs her nails into her palms far too often, it will make it painful to hold…well, certain things.

She leaves the tub and wraps a silk robe around herself. She drags her toes across the cold tile of the floor, presses her hand against the glass of the window. Each sensation feels new when she's allowed through the mask.

This Princess leaves the washroom and opens her wardrobe. She ignores the pretty white and pastel dresses, her eyes going to the very corner of the wardrobe, where her favorite dress hangs. She pulls it from the wardrobe and smiles at it.

“Time to get to work, dear friend,” she giggles to the dress.

 

* * *

 

Grand Duke Li Yitong sits at the head of a majestic table, surrounded by Ladies and Duchesses, all of whom have sworn loyalty to her in some way or another. She sips from a wine glass, flavor washing over her tongue as she swallows slowly. Even in times of political upheaval, one should take time to enjoy the finer things in life.

Lady TingTing suddenly walks into the room. She leans over Yitong’s shoulder, the fabric of her sleeve brushing the Duke’s cheek, and drops a rolled scroll on the table. Yitong casts a look around the table before reaching for the scroll and unrolling it.

 **We support you as King** , the scroll reads, followed by the signatures of all those present, as well as other Nobility.

Yitong keeps her expression still as she stands and walks to the other end of the table, where a tapestry embroidered with the royal family crest lies draped over a chair, reminding them, constantly, of who is in power.

 _‘Not anymore,’_ Yitong thinks as she grabs the tapestry and tosses it aside. The Ladies at the table smile, a few even applaud as Yitong turns and purposefully steps on the tapestry on her way to the open balcony.

She breathes in the warm air. Truly, this is the dawn of a new era in Naples.

 

* * *

 

Night falls over the Kingdom. The three assassins work best at night, when the shadows are truly inseparable from the danger that lurks within them.

The Fifth Duke’s castle is heavily guarded due to the spike in murders, but two of them dispatch the guards on this round easily, with well-places slashes across their necks. They lower their masks to survey their work. The first part of the job complete, their leader gestures wordlessly to the back entrance of the castle. They rush towards it, steady and silent. Someone is waiting for them—their Mistress. She produces a key, lets them into the castle, and the four of them fan out.

One dispatches the guards outside the Duke’s bedroom.

One takes care of the guards outside the treasury.

One does away with the guards by the library.

The last finds a knife.

The three assassins regroup and creep toward the Duke’s bedroom, ready to deliver the killing blow themselves if they need to, but their Mistress beats them to it. She emerges from a shadow, drives a knife deep into the Duke’s back, severing his spinal cord, and jerks the knife out. The Duke falls to the floor, silent.

Their Mistress turns to them and smiles, letting the hand still clutching the knife fall to her side. The trio lower their hoods respectfully. The Princess is different around them, no longer a wilting flower, but a woman of power and cunning, one who will dirty her own hands to get what is promised to her. This Princess has power that no other royal has had.

“Only the Grand Duke’s castle left,” Princess Jingyi says evenly.

Feng XinDuo, leader of the trio of assassins, dips her head. “Everything according to your wishes,” she says.

The Princess chuckles, looking aside at the body of the Duke on the floor. They won’t remove the body, and in a few hours, the Kingdom will be buzzing about another series of murders in a palace. For now, the foursome move, untroubled, through the palace. They take treasures, documents, and anything else the Princess finds herself fancying. There’s a beautiful cat in one of the bedrooms, and she calls it towards her. it comes at once, rubbing against her ankles and purring. A jeweled collar is around the animal’s neck, the Princess finds a leash and escorts the cat out of the Duke’s palace and into her own.

 

 

The Princess wakes up in her own room, dawn on the horizon, and images of blood in her mind. She looks down at her hands—they’re covered in blood. She begins to shake, staring down at herself. She looks into the mirror—she’s pale, dressed in her usual white and looking all the more colorless because of it—and back down. The blood is gone from her hands. She rubs them together and blinks, and the blood is back.

She closes her eyes and shakes her head. She can picture, so clearly, a knife going into a man’s back, the feeling of bone and skin as the blade slices clean through it, before the knife is jerked out once more. Why, why can she see it as if…as if she was the one holding the knife?

She opens her eyes and looks at the blood on her hands. Did she…did she kill that man?

 

* * *

 

Lu Ting and Huang TingTing enter the First Duke’s library to find the other ladies already waiting. Lu Ting takes a seat in a plush armchair, fanning herself.

TingTing stands behind the chair, squares her shoulders, and tells the assembled women in a cold voice, “We must kill the Princess.”

Yixuan holds a hand to her mouth in shock. Lu Ting makes note of it—they can do away with the Madame if need be. Xiaoyin looks down, her mouth twisting. She’s in, but reluctantly so.

Lu Ting continues the train of thought, “Yes, we must get rid of her. Leaving her alive will only cause a mess, it’s cleanest to kill her.”

Li Yuqi smirks from where she sits in an armchair.

Mo Han sighs happily and looks into the distance, at a future only she can see. “Finally, the day is here.”

 

* * *

 

The trio stand on a rooftop opposite the Duke’s castle. It’s not yet dusk, but the sun is sinking below the horizon. It’s not an optimal time to attack, but their Mistress, their Princess, had ordered it. She didn’t want them to kill the Duke, merely distract her so she could go into the castle.

They always obeyed their Princess, it was because of her that they had received their training in the first place. They had been orphans when the Princess found them. Each from a different island, they had never met each other before, but the Princess was lonely, and wanted playmates. Not the daughters of Nobility—she wanted playmates who she could mold to be what she wanted them to be. The Queen had just died, and the King gave his daughter what she wanted.

She went to the orphanages and picked them each out. They were taken to the Palace and given baths and clothes. They ate with the Princess, using their hands instead of the forks they were given, and the Princess copied them.

They played in the dirt in the gardens, hide and seek, tag, races. The princess tossed her skirts aside and ran in her bloomers, her three friends following her lead. The Princess took note of their speed, strength, and hero-worship. She sent them to be trained, not as ordinary guards, who would die to protect the Princess, but as special guards, who would do anything it took to live for the Princess.

 They had stood beside her when she had no one else to trust with her deepest secrets, her desires for power that others were unlikely to give her, so she decided to take that power. They had watched as she delved into the dark arts and knowledges of old. They watched as she became unhinged because of it.

 

_The Princess was fifteen, and she was teetering on the edge of something wonderful and terrifying, in many different ways. She stirred the concoction in front of her, muttering instructions under her breath. If she did it right, she would be able to travel to another place instantaneously. For attempting it at all, some might have called her mad, others would have called her brilliant. She was not the child who had brought three orphans into the palace, but a young woman who grew more beautiful each day, and more disillusioned as well. She was learning to do whatever it took to get what she wanted._

_At the moment, the Princess was tired, stressed, and perhaps…not entirely present. Her hair was in disarray, and she had shadows under her eyes from two days without sleep, staying up to brew her potion. Yue, Yanfen, and Xinduo had been with the Princess the entire time. She had refused their help with the potion itself, but they fetched her water and food, they fanned her when she was hot, they wrapped blankets around her shoulders when she was cold._

_Yue had looked at Yanfen, her expression asking if she thought it would work. Yanfen shrugged, answering that she had doubts, but the Princess showed promise. The three of them had gotten very good at silent communication over the years._

_The Princess scooped the liquid from the pot with a ladle. She dumped it into her palm, and as it hit her skin, the liquid turned to powder._

_Xinduo had gasped outloud, and it was drowned by the Princess' crow of excitement. She closed her eyes, tossed the powder over her head, and disappeared._

_The three had yelped, but then the Princess reappeared on the other side of the library. Her pale face was flushed, her eyes were bright, and she was smiling. It had worked._

The three of them were sisters to each other, and support to the Princess. It was not their job to question the morality, legality, or even sanity of what the Princess did. They were bound to her, they served her because they had to, yes, but also because they happened to like her. Truly, she was a piece of work at times, a bit mad, and two faced—literally. But she was brilliant, focused, and fiercely protective. The three of them loved the Princess, and so they would do as she said.

They could feel the eyes of the Princess on them as they came upon the Duke. They weren’t trying to be sneaky at all, they wanted to be seen. Xinduo was the first to strike, Yanfen lunged but paused as the Duke glared. Yue stood poised at the Duke’s back. The Duke turned, whipping her sword around and narrowly missing Yue. Yue struck the sword aside with her dagger, and the Duke stumbled but recovered. The trio circled, taking non-lethal jabs, and just as quickly as they had come…they retreated.

From above, the Princess watched it all over the edge of her fan. As her trio of assassins retreated, the Duke turned, looked around, and saw her. But before the Duke could make out just who she was, the Princess was gone.

 

 

The Princess dusted excess powder off her gown as she emerged in the Duke’s palace entryway. The guards were all searching for intruders on the grounds, no one would search the palace yet. Jingyi took her time as she went through the rooms, even pausing to check her reflection, make sure she got all the powder off of her gown.

And in a desk in a study, Jingyi found a rolled up scroll, which had written on it **“We Support You as King,”** along with dozens of signatures that she recognized.

She tossed the scroll aside, gritting her teeth. _Traitors_ , she hissed to herself. But she took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. It was okay, after all. She had a way to fix this. She managed a smile that was closer to a smirk. Oh yes, she had a way.

The Princess lead the way back to the Palace, lost in her own thoughts. So lost in fact, that she didn’t notice her guards approaching until they were right on top of her.

Yuge was quite the swordsman. Jingyi barely managed to turn in time to avoid getting skewered by the Knight’s sword.

Xinduo blocked Zhehan, Yue blocked Jiaqi and Dai Meng with both of her daggers, and Yanfen faced off with Yuge, locking her dagger into the elegant twists at the hilt of Yuge’s sword.

Yuge looks over Yanfen’s shoulder, and locks eyes with Jingyi. Jingyi sees the recognition flash in Yuge’s eyes, and from behind her fan, she pops the cap off a vial of a different kind of powder, this one she tosses towards the guards, flinging it into their eyes. The guards freeze, trapped in a statuesque trance for sixty seconds. Jingyi and her trio of assassins run. By the time the powder wears off of the Guards, they are long gone, but Jingy knows she barely has time to get herself into bed, where she belongs.

The Princess dives under her blankets and manages to lie still just as she hears her door open. Seconds later, she hears it close again. She opens her eyes and smiles.

 

 

The Princess pours red wax over the edge of the envelopes and seals them with her personal stamp. She’s planned this down to the last detail, nothing can go wrong now.

She stands and walk to her dress, hanging in front of a window so that sunlight illuminates the embellishments on the bodice. She brushes her fingers over the tiny beads before turning to the mirror. She studies her tired eyes, her pale skin, her unsure expression…and then the face in the mirror smirks at her.

Jingyi blinks, lifting her hand to the mirror. How can her reflection smirk if she’s not? But then her reflection changes—she’s wearing black, her eyes are cruel, her mouth twisted. She withdraws her hand and presses it to her head instead. Her very brain seems to flicker, one way to the next. One side of her desires death and blood, and the other side is confused, and tired, and so…worried.

But why…why does she have to be both? Why can’t she be one with all those feelings? Why can’t she just get what she wants?!

She yanks her hand away from her head and rips her way out of her white dress. White, white, always white. Father’s idea, make her look pure, angelic, innocent. Well, she’s none of those things now.

“Am I, father?!” Jingyi hisses as she pulls on her black dress. She yanks her earrings off and places a single gold bead under her eye. She pulls the pendant out from under her dress, lets her hair fall out of its elegant twist.

She stands in front of the mirror, breathing heavily. She waits until she gets a hold of herself before she looks up at her reflection.

Ah, yes. Much better.

She grins and turns to the trunk beside her fire place. She opens it and there, nestled on a pillow trimmed with lace, is a beautiful, antique gun. The handle is carved bone, with an eagle head at the end, the metal is plated with gold. It’s a lovely work of art.

Jingyi picks up the gun, the handle fitting perfectly into her palm. She thinks of the sound it made when fired, impossibly loud, but she didn’t jump, didn’t flinch as the body hit the floor.

She giggles, smiling down at the gun. Father hadn’t seen it coming, had he? But then, he didn’t see much in his life, not the betrayal of the Nobles, not the madness of his daughter, not his own death when it walked into his bedroom, in the form of his precious little Princess, smiling sweetly while she held the gun behind her back. She shot him in the base of the skull when he turned his back to her. He should never have turned his back to her.

 

* * *

 

 

Lady Lu Ting waits for the signal, two flashes of lights, before she approaches the carriage. In the back row, TingTing does her best not to let her nerves betray her. The witch had said that there would be eyes on her tonight, and she was to play her part right.

 

 

_It had been nothing short of shocking, waking up in a dimply lit room, with her arms and legs tied tight to a chair. Three hooded figures had stood in front of her, and then, in front of her eyes, the Princess had materialized. But she wasn’t the Princess—she was a witch._

_She had been wearing black and clutching a gun. She had smirked. “Beautiful isn’t it?” She whispered, looking at the gun. “But so deadly.” She lifted her eyes to TingTing’s face. “I should know, seeing as I killed the King with it.”_

_TingTing opened her mouth, but the Princess-Witch snapped her fingers, and she’d found her voice frozen. She couldn’t make a sound._

_The Princess-Witch sat in TingTing’s lap and pressed the muzzle of the gun to her cheek. “I have power that you can never understand,” she’d said, tracing the gun over TingTing’s shaking lips. “And you’re going to do something for me.” She tossed the gun away and leaned down, clutching TingTing’s jaw in her hands. She’d gotten so close, TingTing wondered if the madwoman was going to kiss her._

_Princess Jingyi’s lips brushed her own as she whispered, “Help me fake my death.”_

 

 

Lu Ting slides into the front row of seats, next to Lady Mo Han. In this particular carriage, there are two rows of seats, but rather than face each other, both rows face the front. It’s meant for royalty, so that the King or Queen can sit in the back and have privacy while attendants sit in the front. TingTing should have been honored to sit with the Duke, but right now her skin is crawling.

As Lu Ting settles, the carriage begins to move. The driver is taking them for a short ride around the kingdom. The Duke arranged the ride—nothing odd about a ride at night, though now, TingTing knows nothing can fool the witch.

The Duke holds an envelope between her fingers. “I received an invitation,” She says. “It seems our Princess has dug her own grave.”

TingTing scoffs, “Holding a masquerade ball right now? Is our princess naïve or what?” Her voice doesn’t shake.

In the front seat, Lu Ting holds up a bottle filled with red liquid. “A single bottle and all things will end,” she says. She passes the bottle back, and the Duke takes it.

“You must drink the poison, then kiss the Princess,” Lu Ting says. “After it sinks into her veins, you drink the antidote. You will be safe and she will die.”

Mo Han sighs happily. “The reign of the royals will finally end.”

A giggle echoes around the carriage.

 

* * *

 

The Ladies get ready for the ball together. Yuqi twirls in a white dress, grinning from behind her fan. Xiaoyin remains in her lingerie, applying sweet-smelling lotion to her skin. Yixuan can seem to decide whether to stare at Yuqi or Xiaoyin. Mo Han, also in her lingerie, leans close to a mirror and pushes her breasts up. Siyi snorts at Mo Han and fastens her earrings.

The Duke twirls before a mirror in a midnight blue dress. Lu Ting nods, smiling appreciatively. TingTing remains pensive, tapping her foot against the floor. One way or another, this will soon be over.

 

* * *

 

The Guards get ready for the ball together. They may be dressing in silks and brushing powder on their cheeks, but there are daggers strapped under their corsets and against their legs. It is their sworn duty to protect the Princess, after all.

 

* * *

 

The trio of assassins get ready for the ball together. Yanfen helps Yue with her dress, drawing the laces tight. Xinduo examines her blade, not that she’ll be needing it tonight, if all goes according to plan.

 

* * *

 

Princess Jingyi holds the intricate white mask against her face. Pure, innocent, and unassuming. She grins.

 

* * *

 

The Ladies are beautiful in their dresses. They execute perfectly practiced dance steps, those that every woman of good breeding knows. The swish and rustle of their dresses is drowned out by the music, though the music is itself not loud. The flutter of fans makes the ladies’ hair dance, and the clinking of glasses together can almost be mistaken for the clinking of crystal jewelry.

Jingyi stands to the side, twisting her hands in a good imitation of her former self. She wears the pendant the King gave her alongside her diamonds, and it clashes horribly, but the Princess would never be without her father’s precious final gift. Nobody notices her tip a small vial into her mouth.

Jingyi begins to walk across the dance floor, but someone catches her wrist. She turns—the Grand Duke has found her. The Duke bows her head and presses her lips to the back of Princess Jingyi’s hand, and the veins under her skin flash black.

Jingyi lets her jaw drop. The Duke tosses her hand aside. Jingyi falls to her knees. There’s an outcry from her royal guards, but they are held back by the Duke’s lapdogs.

Duke Li Yitong leans down and rips the delicate white mask from Jingyi’s face, throwing it aside, too. Jingyi clutches a fist to her chest, choking, or doing a good imitation of it, at least. Lady Mo Han hands Duke Yitong a bottle of white liquid, which she drinks. She lets the bottle fall, and Jingyi falls with it, her cheek pillowed on her arm.

“The Princess is dead!” Someone shouts.

There is cheering, there is crying, and amongst it all, no one notices the flash of the Princess’ veins.

 

* * *

 

Yitong takes a seat on the throne. It isn’t going to be a reminder of a dead King for much longer. She gazes out at the throne room, resting her hand on the hilt of her sword. Soon, she will be crowned.

She returns home, briefly, to gather her things. She visits the room where she first read the scroll that had the signatures of her supporters on it. She looks out the window, feeling nostalgic, and then she feels the cold press of metal against the back of her skull.

 

* * *

 

Princess Jingyi didn’t need the gun, she had another way to kill the Duke, but it would be theatrical to say the least. Using the gun that killed the king to shock her last rival.

Duke Yitong whirls around, her eyes wide. “You are…it’s you?” She stammers. She looks confused, and there’s some part of her, Jingyi knows, that thinks this can’t be the same Princess she taunted.

Jingyi lowers the gun and raises an eyebrow. “Surprised?” She asks coolly. Her assassins stand behind her, witnesses to her rival’s impending death.

The Duke stumbles back. “How could you…?”

Jingyi grins. “I get what I want,” she whispers. “When I showed Lady TingTing my true powers…well, she cowered before me and begged for mercy. I granted it, if she agreed to turn on you. She did it easily, to save her own skin.” The Princess laughs. “And to think, you thought she was loyal. There’s no loyalty stronger than the threat of death. I drank the antidote before you could poison me. I’m afraid you lost your little game.”

She takes Yitong’s hand and kisses it. The veins under her skin flash back.

Yitong gasps. Jingyi smiles and swallows the vial of antidote.

Yitong chokes, lunges at the Princess, and yanks the pendant from her neck. Yitong and the pendant fall. The King’s seal spills from the pendant.

Yitong makes a choked noise of realization as she reaches for the ring. Good, Jingyi thinks as she smiles. She wants Yitong to know just how hopeless her whole endeavor was. She never had a chance.

A tear slips from Yitong’s eyes and over the bridge of her nose as she exhales for the last time.

Jingyi sighs. Finally, she can breathe easy.

Xinduo whispers, “Long Live the Queen.”

 

* * *

 

Queen Jingyi sits on her throne. She no longer wears her pendant—instead, she wears the King’s seal; the one that the Grand Duke Li Yitong stole, when she murdered the King. After avoiding the plot meant to kill her, Jingyi confronted Yitong, who chose to kill herself rather than stand trial. Three high-ranking assassins and Duke Huang TingTing backed her up. Duke TingTing has been spared from death, but she will be in prison for the rest of her life.

Jingyi rubs her thumb over the seal. The rest of them will be executed. It should be underway by now. The cat she took from the fifth Duke's palace curls around her ankles. She leans against the back of the throne and giggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved Jingyi's character so much.


End file.
